away, i hope he stops me,
seeking freedom in pain,
journey for nigh, resolute,
musting to witness and coerce;
slowly, i hope he chases me,
fleeing in security yet,
tremble these legs, gauche,
knowing to be and crying;
alone, i hope he finds me,
numbing and lost to all,
regrets cut scars, deep,
wishing to dream and failing.
Love bomb.
Explode already.
He doesn’t.
He can’t.
He won’t.
Leave me.
Useless feelings.
Explode me already.
Take me out.
Make me forget.
Cursed thing.
Never stopping.
I beg you, stop.
I cry out, stop.
I submit, stop.
Just leave me alone.
For what do I atone.
He dazzled me with mundane.
He woke me with dreams.
He challenged me with easy.
He talked to me with silence.
He captured me with freedom.
He structured me with instability.
He loved me, but couldn’t say it.
Nobody is as interesting.
Nobody is as beautiful.
Nobody is as exciting.
Nobody is as comforting.
Nobody is as arousing.
Nobody is as frustrating.
Nobody is as hurtful.
Nobody is as heartbreaking.
As him. I love him.
Commandeering the city bus,
Scaring folks with all th’ fus,
Doing what I absol’ mus’,
I breakdown feeling sus,
What’s brought me here t’ this,
Decisions made chasin’ bliss,
Aimed high ‘n’ low, all miss’d
Deviating got them pissed
Trying hard t’ stake a claim,
Risking life as a maim,
Dodging right my own blame,
Digging deep and pushing on,
Feeling like its soon gone,
Twilights fast approaching dawn,
It’s fading in my memory now,
Quite certain even if I vow,
It’s too late to solve for how,
My fill of regret and shame,
Fleeting is this torches’ flame,
Part of me is lost jus’ the same,
As I fall on to the floor,
Just past the bus’s door,
Dripping with my own gore,
My last breath fights for more,
“What if” has so much in store,
On my tongue is but a name,
As I circle back this game,
What couldn’t’ve been th’ same
A wound that ends this life,
Feelings so old and rife,
Never letting go of strife,
Now it all ends right here,
Wishing I had been more dear,
Part of me’s gone, is clear.
It can be an addiction,
Craving moments of intimacy,
A touch, a look, a connection,
Our souls twinned and aligned,
For a moment time is lost,
Our existence melds into one,
I’m finally not alone, but is it real?
Wanting more, needs unfilled,
To sate this insecure desire,
An inner void neglected,
Pounding louder in deafening silence.
You haven’t left, but I fear your loss,
Expecting pain, I push too much,
I grasp to hold tight, smothering,
You recoil, in pain, of course,
I make the pain I fear,
How do I fill the void,
How do I stop the cycle.
I used to believe in freedom, but not anymore. I’m stuck in this life, as if I ever decided anything, how any of it was going to go. I made choices, I changed direction but not the outcome. I’m still me.
Does freedom exist, or just the lack of it? Do I exist, or just existence without me? All this was going to happen anyway, did I make a difference. Can I still?
How could I dare to be more than the unit of human I was born into, more than my experience, more than the thoughts in my head and my interactions with all this stuff.
I’m pulling it away from my face.
It’s stuck on and won’t let go.
is this really who I am,
who I’ve become.
the sense of loss is all around, an inescapable topic of conversation as the world deals with the turning of the pages of history. to see her story end is a blow to humanity, an ever present voice of reason that is now lost amongst the noise of people who no longer listen.
as a new king steps forward, it becomes clear to all those living that they will never see a queen again- and never like her. it’s a raw open wound. the world was a better place 2 days ago. the future is less certain, darker. And yet nothing changed really.
To place a label on something is to understand it,
To have a place to put an idea, object, or thought,
But all things are always changing; entropy, evolution,
So a label is a mere snapshot; the near past, soon gone,
So the label ends meaningless; limited, small, and finite,
To know something is to only know yourself in it.
To think of universals are arrogant, fleeting, grasping, yearning.
Give up your delusions of legacy, they’re already gone too.
Now you understand labels– just your yearning to carve your name.
Silly meat puppet.